Another Year Older
by Twinings
Summary: You know what they say: another year older, another year...older, anyway.  [CAT]


_Disclaimer: I don't own the Scarecrow...but I know what I want for my birthday. (Hint, hint.)_

_CATverse timeline is at www. freewebs. com/ catverse but this fic isn't yet on it. It surprised me, springing forth fully formed like Athena from the head of Zeus about an hour ago. This takes place in July, 2014, after BiteMeTechie's "Stars and Spangles" and before my tentatively titled "Stray CAT Strut" (unless Techie's using that title, I can't even remember anymore) which wasn't intended to go there, but suddenly seems the natural choice. Next CATfic, chronologically, that's actually been posted is Techie's very adorable "Hitch."_

_Happy birthday to me._

* * *

Another Year Older

When Al woke up, the lair was quiet, and she almost forgot that it was her birthday. It wasn't that she didn't like birthdays. She didn't mind too much that she was another year older—after all, she might be older than she had been the year before, but she preferred to think of it as being a day older than yesterday. And what was wrong with aging by a single day? She wasn't going to carry on the way Techie had the month before, mourning the loss of her youth and the impending death from old age until Jonathan pointedly reminded her that _he_ had almost ten years' head start.

There had been tears and hugging that day, and a promise (made at gunpoint) that he would never leave them.

("Oh, but it's all right for _you_ to do it," he'd said with the utmost sarcasm. But when they'd cocked the pistols they'd brought back from Atlantic City and reminded him that he didn't need _both_ feet intact, he'd decided not to argue any more.)

Al got out of bed and went straight for her fuzzy slippers. Even in the heat of summer, she couldn't wander the lair without those things. And what she wanted now, more than anything else in the world, could only be found in the kitchen.

Techie and the Captain had promised her the cake of her life, the cake to end all cakes ("a cake and a half," whatever that was supposed to mean.) Privately, she doubted they would top her mother's chocolate cake, or her grandma's cake with the butter cream frosting, but if they promised a cake and a half, then a cake and a half it would be.

In the meantime, there was most of a bag of chocolate chips waiting in the pantry, and she didn't think they would miss a handful or two.

She moved past her partners' closed doors, yawning and still rubbing her eyes. But when she reached the end of the hall, she stopped dead.

Jonathan was already up, which wasn't too surprising. They were quite the group of insomniacs, and he was the worst of all. But she had never expected to see him sitting there, frowning in concentration as he applied tape to a messy package in shiny purple wrapping paper.

"Squishykins?"

He looked up at her with a guilty start, sweeping the package onto the floor as he did so.

"What, Al? What do you want? Why do you always have to sneak up on me like that?"

She stared at him.

"Are you feeling all right?" He just glared at her. "I was going to get something to eat. Are you hungry?"

"No, I am _not_ hungry." He shooed her away. She grinned.

"Okay, so you can't be _that_ sick." She sat down in the chair next to his. He looked like he wanted to kill her. Her smile widened. "And how are _you_ feeling this morning, squish face?"

"Like murdering the next person who calls me 'squish face.' Weren't you hungry?"

"Not especially," she said sweetly. He made that particular sound she loved so much that signified that he was fighting for emotional control.

"Shouldn't you eat _anyway_? That's what you're always telling me."

"Yeah, but I never use that as an excuse to get rid of you. And there's no way I'm leaving until you show me that thing you're trying to hide behind your chair."

Jonathan froze in the act of kicking the package backward. She smiled expectantly. He gave her a look of pure hatred. She smiled more. Then with a disgruntled sigh, he picked up the purple package, thrust it at her, and grumbled something under his breath as he let it fall into her hand.

"Hamburglar?" she repeated uncertainly. He got up and stalked over to the other side of the room, feeling more secure when he could glare at her from a distance.

"You _know_ what I said." Al smiled and decided not to make him repeat it.

"For me?" she asked. "_Really_?"

One shoulder jerked in an indifferent shrug.

"Those two are throwing you a surprise party."

"I'll try to act surprised. But…" She held up the box, still waiting for him to tell her why he had felt it necessary to get her a birthday present.

"They said if I didn't…" He trailed off, uncomfortable with the thought of revealing any vulnerability. She made sure to keep her expression serious.

"What?"

"They said, and I quote: 'If you don't get her a present, one she actually likes, we're going to come down into your lab, drag you out, handcuff you to Al, and we won't let you go until the party's over.' I know what they've planned for this party. I don't want to be a part of it."

Al managed to fight down her own giggles. Barely.

"Were they going to make you sing?" she asked, almost managing to sound sympathetic. He shuddered.

"_Worse_."

Worse? She liked the sound of that. She was almost tempted to declare her present not up to par, just to force the man to endure whatever unspeakable things her friends had planned. But she had to decide, albeit reluctantly, that he had probably been punished enough.

"Can I open it now?" she asked.

"Please. Get it over with."

Al tore off the paper he had been working so hard on just a moment ago, and found herself staring down at a very familiar sight.

Of course, when _she_ bought a box of Earl Grey, it didn't usually end up bloodstained.

"You _stole_ a box of tea for my birthday?" she whispered without raising her head. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Well, not just _one_. I, uh…didn't know which kinds you liked, so I…just took the delivery truck."

"SQUISHY!" She threw herself at him and wrapped her arms around his neck. He staggered, and tried desperately to pull away. She didn't let him go. "_You got me a __**truckload**__ of tea!_"

"It's just tea!" Al refused to let him push her off.

"It's the best present _ever_! _You're_ the best! _I love you_!"

"No. You. Don't," he said through gritted teeth as he tried to pry her arms off him. She wrapped her legs around his waist, utterly destroying his balance. He hit the floor hard with her on top of him, now sitting on his lap. She stayed that way, ignoring his struggles, until the sound of laughter drew her attention to the hallway, where the Captain and Techie were standing, watching them both with savage grins.

"Okay, Squishy," said Techie. "I _guess_ that's good enough. You can skip the party."

"Will you get her off me?" he demanded. The two henchgirls exchanged a glance. Then, slowly, they shook their heads.

"That'll cost extra."


End file.
